Branded
by pompomwoop
Summary: AU from chapter 343 onwards. Following an event in which Orochimaru is at a disadvantage, Sasuke does the irreversible – branding him to the Uchiha for eternity, something that would have severe alterations concerning the near future. SasuOro. On-going.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Hey there~ This is the revised version of  Branded I originally posted in 2009. The plot will follow the same trajectory as before with some changes here and there. It will be a long ride, expected to be near 50 chapters or so because there won't be a sequel.

The previous version was unsatisfying imo. I took it down for a reason. Sasuke did things he never would have, whereas Orochimaru came across as spineless – putting it simply, he was too 'nice'. Everything could have been handled better. There are older copies of this story floating around on the internet which bothers me because I can write better. This is a personal gripe of mine because I always aim to write and share something worth reading.

 **Note:** Sasuke is a bit older than he would be in canon. Another point is that I re-read my stories every few days to nitpick, finding grammatical errors and things I dislike, so I suggest reading the story here. This version will always be up to date.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Following the first thud of a body, hundreds more dropped to the ground in a matter of minutes. The number of shinobi thinned until there was only a lone figure remaining crouched among the sea of bodies. All of their vital organs were avoided on purpose; none of them had been killed. The cacophony of whines, moans and grunts was proof enough they still lived and breathed.

Orochimaru deigned to listen to the sounds of his subordinates with a sneer, wondering if there was such a sight more unflattering than this. The defeat of a thousand could be laid at the feet of one person which made it all the more pathetic on their part.

"How kind of you to spare them all, Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru commented in derision, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

Sasuke brushed the remark aside, unaffected by the snipe at his refusal to kill anyone except Itachi. He allowed it to sail by like the countless others before it over the past three years. "They aren't the ones I want to kill."

One of the fallen shinobi – the nearest one at his feet – chose at that moment to make his existence known to Orochimaru, spluttering in a coughing fit. Orochimaru did not even bother to spare the man a second glance because he was just that expendable, undeserving of even a staring down. "If you don't become merciless," he sent the man reeling with a swift kick to the gut in emphasis, "you will never defeat Itachi."

"Before Itachi, I will become merciless." Sasuke rose to his feet, reaching out to grasp the handle of his sword. The clean blade glinted in the sunlight as it was angled in the air, spinning, before sliding into its scabbard. "I won't show him mercy – not even if he gets on his knees and begs for it."

It was difficult to believe that this young man – no longer a boy from the time he joined Sound – was unscathed from the training session. There was not even a drop of return blood staining his clothing, barely slicked with sweat if any at all. People used to call Orochimaru a genius, but at that same age, he would have been nothing compared to Sasuke.

Orochimaru found himself staring, unable to look away from his future. He lingered at a standstill even after that body he longed to possess disappeared from sight. When he finally moved to leave the training grounds, he did so with a smile. It was almost time, just a little longer until he would assimilate that greatness, claiming that body for his own.

Soon, Sasuke would be his.

* * *

"Your body has reached its limit," Kabuto was saying as he hovered at Orochimaru's bedside. "At this rate, if I don't give you the rank ten medicine, your body will..." He trailed off, letting the implications of his words sink in.

There was no need to speak further; the coughs wracking Orochimaru spoke volumes of his dire condition. The body Orochimaru inhabited was nearing its expiry date, rejecting and trying to expel his foreign control while deteriorating at the same time, failing on both accounts. The rank ten medicine was potent, however it would only be a temporary fix, stalling the inevitability of changing bodies.

"Hold on for a bit longer." Kabuto strode to the door, pausing in the doorway long enough to say, "I'll go fetch the stronger medicine," over his shoulder.

Orochimaru did the only thing he could do in his bedridden state. He began to laugh.

How ironic that he had to taste such death before attaining life, soon to possess the perfect vessel as an anchor to the world. It was a joke of the darkest kind that he adored – twisted amusement at its finest. Goodness, once he began laughing, he simply could not stop. Even when he doubled forward, coughing up blood, the laughter persisted, swelling in his chest along with the taint of bile.

A patter of footsteps drew his attention, echoing from the corridor beyond his room. Orochimaru had barely enough time to react, looking up from his hunched position on the bed when, out of nowhere at alarming speed, a glowing sword stabbed the door. It pierced right through the wood, heading straight for him. Unable to veer out of the way, left with no other alternative, he drew his arms in a textbook block and braced himself.

Orochimaru hissed when the blade pierced his flesh. The block mitigated deeper damage at the expense of pinning his forearms together. He tried to dislodge his arms, twisting this way and that, but to no avail. It only made more blood spurt from the wound. The blade was unyielding, composed entirely of chakra with an ethereal quality, numbing his arms whenever it crackled with lightning.

"Who is it?" Orochimaru dared to ask, already suspecting the answer.

The answer he received was non-verbal in nature, though no less effective in getting the point across. Piece by piece, sliced apart by quick and efficient slashes of a blade, the door crumbled to the ground.

"So." Orochimaru sounded haughty even in his weakened state, drawling the word. There was no bitterness, no sourness in his expression, having expected things would end this way. "It came down to this after all."

Sasuke held the same opinion, composed even when he spoke harsh words. "You have nothing more to teach me. It seems that even in front of you," an edge steeled his voice, matching the power swirling at his eyes and flaring over his skin, "I can become merciless."

Orochimaru discovered just how merciless Sasuke could be.

The elemental blade lodged at his forearms stretched to break skin, muscle and bone, tearing through it all to extend past him. It lengthened just as Sasuke crossed the threshold, closing the distance between them at a slow, calculated speed until the tip of the blade was embedded into the wall. Orochimaru grimaced when his arms were forced to the side, drawn so tightly that, even through the numbing pressure, he felt something snap.

"Orochimaru," Sasuke said, slowing to a halt in the middle of the room. "You are weaker than me. There's no point in giving you my body at this point."

Orochimaru was tempted to laugh at the sheer audacity, making a breathy sound in prelude of laughter. He did not actually laugh, though, on the contrary looking deadly serious to hurl the insult back at Sasuke. "Big words from the leftover Uchiha."

Sasuke smirked, using the ammunition Orochimaru had inadvertently placed in his hands. "If I hadn't been so weak, I never would have sought you out, would I?" The deafening silence was priceless, giving him another opening to further drive his point across. "You only wanted me because you couldn't handle Itachi. Isn't that right, the so-called 'great Sannin genius'?"

The words hit their mark, bitterness seeping into the wound. Sasuke could see it plainly from the flare of nostrils and narrowing of golden eyes into menacing slits. Still charging the elemental blade, he took an invasive step closer. "Perhaps the world at large would consider you gifted, but next to the Uchiha, you are nowhere our level. Before us, the greatest genius in the universe barely comes off as average."

Sasuke took another step, slowly yet surely eating the space separating them. Every step was measured, each word from his lips flat, telling Orochimaru exactly how it was without inflection. "And as someone who carries that name, from my point of view, your attempts to obtain our power are so disgusting they're almost funny. Saturating yourself with drugs and medicines? Transferring bodies?"

By now, Sasuke had reached the foot of the bed, crossing lines in more ways than one. From his sitting position on the mattress, Orochimaru was forced to angle his head upwards to maintain eye contact, refusing to be cowed into looking away.

This one-sided conversation was ridiculous, going well beyond the tolerable level of rudeness. Even worse was having to gaze up at Sasuke, seeing the power of the Curse Seal flaunted so blatantly.

"Your methods are pointless," Sasuke stated as more of a fact than opinion, leaving little room for discussion. "Do you even have a goal anymore? You claim to be seeking the reason behind existence, yet all you do is make petty excuses for playing god with people's lives."

Sasuke towered at the edge of the bed, the height adding to his air of superiority. As he stared down at Orochimaru, he saw not the man who had been training him for the past three years, but someone else. The whiteness of that face blurred, becoming darker in complexion, streaked by diagonal lines near a straight nose. Hair receded in length, shortening and lightening in shade, parting in the middle to frame a face.

 _"Why?" Sasuke had to know, struggling to crane his neck upwards on the floor, barely managing to look above the bodies of his parents._

 _Standing above them was Itachi, bearing no resemblance to the brother he grew up with – all except for that face. Even the words sounded different, cold and unfeeling. "To measure my capability."_

 _"Measure your capability?" Sasuke choked out, grief tightening his chest, making him shake. "That's it? You killed everyone for that?"_

 _"It was very important that I did._ "

Sasuke blinked the memory away, pushing it out of his mind to focus on the present. He shifted his attention to the figure on the bed, looking at the man who reminded him of Itachi. The faces of his brother and Orochimaru were different, features defined in their own way, however they might as well have been the same. Itachi and Orochimaru had done unspeakable things for their own ends, carrying out cruelty for the flimsiest of reasons on a whim.

It disgusted Sasuke beyond measure. He told Orochimaru so in no uncertain terms, blunt even to the very end. "You sicken me."

Orochimaru was ready for this, no longer seeing the need to tolerate Sasuke. They were fighting for survival; only one of them would make it out alive, the other either killed or taken over.

Just as Sasuke charged forward, confining him against the wall using the elemental blade, Orochimaru made his move. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, on the verge of revealing his true form when the unexpected happened. The lack of killing intent from Sasuke was baffling, catching Orochimaru off guard such that he faltered for a second, visibly shocked. It was a heartbeat, the slightest pause in time, yet it made all the difference.

The weapon Sasuke brandished changed ends; instead of the sharp tip aimed at his neck, Orochimaru felt the bluntness of a sword handle. The pressure slammed into his neck, involuntarily forcing his mouth to close against his wishes. The blunt force from the handle was staggering, rendering him unable to do little else except grind his teeth from the pain of it.

But Sasuke was not done – far from it. Through a haze of pain, Orochimaru was stunned to watch Sasuke stab his sword into the bed, apparently not needing the weapon.

Fingers gripped his chin, overpowering in their strength, trying to force Orochimaru to look in the opposite direction of his arms. He had an iron will, refusing to submit to Sasuke, but even then he was only as strong as his body allowed him to be. Sasuke exploited that physical weakness, securing Orochimaru's chin between his thumb and index finger while lowering the other three digits to the throat, digging in at the bruised area.

It was painful – so unbearable that Orochimaru's body betrayed him, twisting his head to the side in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. The movement revealed his neck, partially obscured as it were by his hair which Sasuke quickly remedied, sweeping the strands away in full exposure. There was a split second when their eyes met, Orochimaru glaring from the corner of his vision until a flash of movement caught his eye.

Sasuke made a single hand seal.

Orochimaru blinked in disbelief, the confusion twisting to pain, contorting his face when Sasuke did the unthinkable. Teeth sank into his neck, biting hard enough to break the surface of skin. He refused to endure it, beginning to writhe on bodily instinct, trying to throw Sasuke off. Just when he thought the pain could not worsen, it heightened to an excruciating level he had never felt before.

The sword stabbed on the bed was in plain sight, but Sasuke might as well have used it instead of the jutsu. It felt like someone was slicing his skin, carving something on the left side of his neck, right at the base of his shoulder. The worst was yet to come, the sensation changing, singeing. It changed from visceral to scorching, setting the already inflamed nerves at his shoulder on fire, burning Orochimaru to his very core.

There was no escape, not even relief when Sasuke withdrew, for the damage had already been done.

Orochimaru was still reeling from the ordeal when he spoke, snarling the words through the aching pain. "What have you done?"

Sasuke was ever the calm, collected individual as he deactivated the power coursing through his body. He tore a piece of fabric from a clean spot on the bed sheet, using it to wipe the blood staining his lips. Only then, after cleaning his mouth, did he bother to answer the question. "You of all people should know," he answered coolly, unperturbed by the killing intent flashing in golden eyes, "seeing as you developed your own, Orochimaru."

The implications were unmistakable, made painfully real through the burning sensation at his shoulder.

"No," Orochimaru hissed, venom coating his voice, hoarse and lower than it had ever been. This was all wrong. He was the one to brand others, leaving his mark on his followers – not the other way around. "This was not meant to be!"

The protest fell on deaf ears, Sasuke offhandedly tossing the bloodied scrap to the ground. He straightened to full height, wordlessly willing the elemental blade out of existence. Doing so freed Orochimaru's pinned arms at the wall. They dropped to the bed in a bloodied heap, bleeding profusely from the open wound. Black eyes followed them, noting the shakiness of arms – how they gingerly moved upwards to the brand.

Feeling the reality of the brand was a rude awakening, reigniting the fire that had burned and sealed the mark into his skin. "I refuse," Orochimaru ground out through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw tightly in flat refusal. He was looking into thin air with wide eyes, appearing not quite 'there'. "I am Orochimaru. I'm the one to reveal this world, holding everything in it. The power of the Uchiha Clan was supposed to be _mine_."

Sasuke unflinchingly stood his ground when Orochimaru turned to look at him then. Had he been a lesser person, he would folded underneath the intensity of golden eyes with disgusting ease, bending over like all of the others in Sound.

But he was not like the rest. Sasuke made sure Orochimaru understood that when the Sharingan swirled into existence, spinning just as the damning words left his lips.

"This is as close as you will ever get to the Uchiha Clan."


	2. Snake

Chapter One – Snake

* * *

Orochimaru felt like he had been slapped in the face.

Sasuke might as well have backhanded him right then and there – so great was his disbelief. At the very least, a physical blow would have spurred him into action to exact revenge. But as it were, Orochimaru was at a loss of what to say or do, clutching the branded skin of his shoulder in shock. Nothing made sense. He had fallen so far, gaping at Sasuke who stood taller than him in more ways than one.

To his unending disbelief, Sasuke was indifferent as always.

"You are in need of a new body," Sasuke was saying, still staring Orochimaru down. "Fortunately for you, someone is coming."

It was only when Sasuke turned on his heel to leave that Orochimaru blinked.

Watching the vessel of his dreams walk away hit Orochimaru, well and truly sinking in as a hard and bitter pill to swallow. It tasted vilely of death. The moment it touched his tongue, Orochimaru spat it out, refusing the unpleasant dose of reality in having his hopes and dreams snatched from his grasp. His future could not end like this – not when he was so close, mere steps away from attaining everything.

Something inside Orochimaru seemed to tear at the seams. Fear, loathing, desperation – all of it seeped through the skin of the veneer he wore over it. The seething torrent of emotion within warped him from the inside out, manifesting in a guttural snarl. "Do _not_ turn your back on me."

The harshness of that command stopped Sasuke in his tracks. He knew Orochimaru could be menacing, seeing glimpses of cruelty over the past three years, but never to this extent emanating such raw power from voice alone. Sasuke had never been on the receiving end of Orochimaru's fury. Others had been the target, a soul unlucky enough to incur the glare of golden eyes, and he had always looked away.

Sasuke acted in the same manner, looking away while resuming his pace towards the door. Not once did he turn around, aware of Orochimaru snarling at his back and besides – he was certain that he had things under the control. The brand was insurance of that.

He would have kept walking if not for a distinct sound. The sickening snap of bones prompted him to turn on the spot in caution, twisting his body to face the source of the sound jarring his hearing.

Somehow, someway, Orochimaru had managed to regain the full bodily strength of his arms. The sound had been the crunch of bones realigned against the limits of the human body, forcibly snapped into place. Even as Sasuke watched, narrowing his eyes in assessment of Orochimaru, white limbs continued to spasm. The sight was unnatural to behold; there was something disturbing about how Orochimaru twitched, coming to life by defying the laws of nature.

"I did not suffer you for the last three years to end up like this," Orochimaru threw out in a hiss, more snakelike than human. Even the way he moved was inhumanly graceful, slithering across the expanse of the mattress to the edge of the bed. He reached out as if to pluck Sasuke from where he stood, curling his fingers inwards. "Your body is mine, Sasuke-kun. I will have you one way or another."

The skin hanging from his arms, torn from the wound earlier, stretched as though it were a living thing in its own right. Something rippled underneath the flesh, creeping and inching towards Sasuke – a force very much alive.

Orochimaru forced power from his weakened body, drawing upon the essence comprising him – venom and all. The snakes bursting from his arm were white, scales bristling with intent, heading straight for their prey. There was not even the slightest change in Sasuke's expression, and the sight only served in fueling the snakes to be faster, more vicious. They got far, eating the distance between Orochimaru and Sasuke.

But not far enough. Sasuke ensured the monstrosities never touched him by making a hand seal. The simple, innocuous hand seal without incantations had devastating consequences.

An unseen force appeared to grip the snakes to haul them back. There was a power struggle, scales bristling in protest, the snakes spitting and hissing. Orochimaru faltered at first, willful to the very end, however his body had limits even if his mind did not. The mustered strength of his bodily power waned to leave a gaping void, pain filling its cavity. Scales morphed into flesh, receding until only a white hand was left, barely managing to stay upright as it shook uncontrollably.

Orochimaru could not stop the tremors wracking his body. His nostrils flared, eyes dilating to nearly pop out of their sockets, breath quickening in a frenzy, yet his body never ceased to shake. He simply could not stop. The activation of the brand had stolen what little he had left, rendering him to be a shaking, bleeding mass on the bed. The hatred tightening his chest did not help either, pushing him to the teetering edge.

In a last ditch effort, Orochimaru attempted to expel his true form to his own detriment. Something was wrong. His true form would have escaped the restrictive shell of a body if not for Sasuke. Only blood escaped his mouth, welling up in his chest and throat with nowhere to go except out. To make things worse, driving him over that edge, was Sasuke with the audacity to issue orders.

"Kabuto should be returning soon with your medicine," Sasuke said as he moved to exit the chamber. He turned his back on Orochimaru, dismissing him without so much as a backwards glance. "If you want to live," one of his gloved hands dropped to the handle of his sword, the gesture unmistakable in its meaning, "then you will take over his body."

Had he been able to without coughing up blood, Orochimaru would have laughed in derision. "I don't take orders from anyone – least of all, the likes of you."

"Do what you want." The words hung in the air, Sasuke continuing to walk away in the opposite direction. It was pointless to look back. His goal was to move forward closer to Itachi, not backwards to the man who merely was a reminder of his brother. Whether Orochimaru lived remained to be seen, however one thing was certain – Itachi would die. Sasuke made that clear when he spoke. "The choice is yours."

The illusion of choice was ridiculous. Orochimaru laughed at the absurdity of it all, no longer able to contain his twisted amusement in spite of the pain. "This is just a temporary setback, Sasuke-kun," he spat through mouthfuls of blood, ignoring it trickling from the corner of his mouth. There was no need to wipe the blood; it would be a trivial task, paling in comparison to the truth of his existence. "You cannot kill me."

Sasuke seemed to not have heard him, reaching the sliced vestige of the door in quick strides, outwardly unaffected. The blatant disregard of the truth made Orochimaru seethe, intensifying the tremors seizing his body. He averted his gaze from Sasuke, glaring at the blood staining the bed sheets, directing his rage at everything in general. As it turned out, though, Sasuke had definitely heard him.

The words Sasuke left behind was another slap to the face, lingering in the chamber long after he disappeared.

"It was never about you."

* * *

All was deathly quiet in the storage room. It was dimly lit with candles, befitting the dark nature of Sound. An assortment of jars lined the majority of shelves, housing a number of creatures and oddities in their preserved state.

The stillness was broken by the click of a door being unlocked. Kabuto headed straight for the medicine cabinet, opening and closing it after retrieving the necessary drugs. Some of the pills were enteric coated, others able to be crushed into a fine, powdery substance. He brought the drugs to the nearby counter, examining the expiry dates and labels on each of the packages before selecting the strongest one.

"Looks like this medicine won't be strong enough," Kabuto mused, talking to no one in particular. It was worse than he expected – the drug was useless. "The transfer ritual will have to be done tomorrow or maybe even today."

As Kabuto eyed the pills, he could not help but smirk. "I can't imagine Sasuke being agreeable to the ritual, actually saying 'yes'." The imaginary sight of Sasuke in his head during the ritual was priceless. Stubborn and blunt to the point of rudeness, it would be a fitting end for Sasuke to be petrified in fear before Orochimaru. Tolerating Sasuke and his insubordination for the last three years would finally be worth it.

Kabuto doubted that even the likes of Sasuke could withstand the transfer ritual. He mulled over the thought as he exited the storage room, chuckling as he closed the door behind him. Though he had personally never been privy to the ritual, having stood outside the chamber at the time of Orochimaru assuming his current host, he knew it was bound to be terrifying.

No sound had come from the chamber when it happened. Silence could be relaxing or tense, depending on the situation. In this case, the silence had been deafening.

Upon nearing the next corner, Kabuto was surprised by what appeared to be rubble in front of Orochimaru's door. There were deep slashes marring the surrounding stone, too – quite the display of power to make clean cuts enough to penetrate the thickness of the wall.

Who would dare to cause such damage, much less even approach Orochimaru without an invitation?

One name sprang to mind, a face flashing in recognition that caused his face to darken. Kabuto was on high alert as he dashed to the door, flattening himself against the damaged wall in caution. His frown deepened in concentration to channel chakra, watching his right hand begin to glow, a blue hue outlining his fingers. The shape sharpened in precision of chakra, honing the outline around his hand to be a weapon in its own right.

Armed with a weapon, Kabuto was now ready to face whatever awaited him in the room. He steeled his resolve to peer around the corner, anticipating that he would face Sasuke. The glow around his hand died in a hum at the unexpected sight of Orochimaru.

"Orochimaru-sama!" Kabuto yelled, then his body reacted on its own accord, legs running faster than he had ever recalled moving in his life. He skidded to a halt at Orochimaru's side, though his eyes never stopped moving, roaming over matted hair in concern. Try as he may, since Orochimaru was hunched over, it was difficult to gauge the severity of his condition, leading Kabuto to ask, "What happened here?"

It was then that Kabuto noticed the blood staining the mattress. Blood was everywhere, spilling onto the side of the bed and the pillows behind Orochimaru. The pillows had been trampled on, lying haphazardly against the cracks of the headboard. So focused on Orochimaru, he had somehow missed the blood in the room, smelling the metallic tang in the air without fully registering it.

"Was it Sasuke?" Kabuto demanded to know, the accusation flying out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Once again, the silence was deafening. It told Kabuto everything he needed to know.

"You need to hold on for just a bit longer, Orochimaru-sama." Kabuto raised his hand to Orochimaru give comfort, only to catch himself, refraining from overstepping certain boundaries. The last person to presume in giving Orochimaru comfort had died before his eyes, killed in cold blood in the span of a heartbeat. Reluctantly, he retracted his hand, settling for a semblance of reassurance. "I need to take care of something – someone, rather."

Kabuto was determined, his hand already glowing in preparation. He was halfway across the threshold when he heard the rustle of bed sheets, making him glance over his shoulder.

"I'm going to do you a favor – what I should have done all those times before you stopped me," Kabuto said with an edge of finality, long ago having made up his mind of giving Sasuke his just desserts. If not for Orochimaru keeping him at bay, he would have given Sasuke a piece of his mind years ago. Insubordination to Orochimaru was unacceptable; people died everyday in Sound for lesser things.

Kabuto itched at the prospect of punishing Sasuke. "Do not fret, Orochimaru-sama," were his soothing words. The care was in stark contrast to the glint in his eye. His fingers fiddled with his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose such that they caught the light, taunting in their gleam. "I'll be sure to heal some of the damage I cause to Sasuke so you can still have his body."

The promise made his hand glow brighter – even deadlier in its vicious intent. Kabuto would have used it to slice Sasuke, on the verge of leaving on a hunt for the Uchiha if not for a voice ringing out.

"There is no time."

Unease twisted Kabuto, ensnaring him to be rooted on the spot. The scratchy, grating quality of Orochimaru's voice was strange. It was so different to the smooth tone he was used to that he felt the first inklings of dread.

"What do you mean?" Kabuto asked slowly, facing the man who both terrified and inspired him. Seeing Orochimaru like this, doubled over in the mess of his own blood and sick, was so wrong. Everything seemed to be out of place. It looked as though Orochimaru was hiding from him, pointedly avoiding his eyes, concealing all behind a sweat-dampened curtain of black hair. He could not see that face.

Kabuto was torn between concern and anticipation, wanting to lift the veil of hair to see that face – at the same time, dreading what lay underneath it. He had to remember that Orochimaru was at his weakest point, shoved into a corner by the looming prospect of death. People trapped in corners had a tendency to snap, forgoing restraint and logic in their desperation, lashing out at anything that ventured too close.

If Kabuto was not careful, it could be the last mistake he would ever make.

"My existence... it cannot end like this."

Any misgivings Kabuto had vanished when a white hand reached out towards him. Orochimaru needed him, that much was clear from the gesture, fingers groping in search for his presence.

That was all that mattered.

Kabuto was next to Orochimaru in the blink of an eye, ignoring the blood staining his knees as he dropped to a crouch, committed on giving the other man what he needed in his darkest hour. It was only fair since Orochimaru had given him so much in turn. The eagerness to help showed, softening his voice. "What do you need from me, Orochimaru-sama?"

The response Kabuto received was strange, catching him off guard. Orochimaru continued to blindly search for him, eventually finding the curve of his shoulder to grip. The hold was loose – so weak that he was able to easily slip free if he wanted to. But Kabuto refused to abandon Orochimaru, especially since he was needed, beckoned closer by the weakest of pulls at his shoulder.

"Just say the word, Orochimaru-sama," Kabuto murmured, moving closer to the face he longed to see. Soon, the veil of hair was in reach, bloodied and greasier than he remembered it ever being. He wanted nothing more than to smooth it aside, feasting his eyes on just how much Orochimaru needed him. "I would give you anything."

For a moment, it looked as if Orochimaru was going to speak. Kabuto discerned a mouth moving, peering through curtains of dark hair. By the time he realised what was happening, it was far too late. The fingers at his shoulder dug in mercilessly to keep him in place, tearing through the flesh, ripping his skin. The display of weakness had been a lie, calculated to dangle a lure, pulling him in slowly yet surely until Kabuto was backed into the corner instead.

There was no escape – nowhere else for Kabuto to look except into the gaping chasm of a mouth. He was paralysed by fear, unable to speak. The silence was deafening like last time.

"I know," was all Orochimaru said.

It was the last thing Kabuto heard before darkness swallowed him alive.


	3. Intent

Chapter Two – Intent

* * *

Inhabiting a new body was exhilarating.

Orochimaru had never felt so alive, teeming with life that had heretofore eluded him – waning on the verge of death. He could not help but marvel at the newfound energy coursing through veins that were now his own, examining his body in fascination.

The wounds marring his flesh had been mended, gone as though they had never been. Orochimaru smoothed his hands over his arms, relishing in the touch – how his fingers, once brittle and weak, now curled with ease, aching and straining no longer. It was the same fluid motion with his legs, guided by grace and power in an unhurried stride. He took his time, savouring each and every step towards the bathroom.

For something as simple as walking, the task was invigorating. The bodily sensations were a testament to youth, of what it was to be living again, assuming corporeal form. Orochimaru saw the reality of it when he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Tilting his head to the side, he studied his reflection, considering.

A face stared back, one that did not belong to Orochimaru by principle yet, in a twisted way, was now his own. Hair parted his face in grey streaks, ending far too short for his liking, framing what would normally be circular glasses. In the span of the transfer ritual, the glasses had disappeared, leaving the skin bare.

The face was undeniably that of Kabuto. The visage of youth was lovely, certainly, but as for everything else...

This simply would not do.

Orochimaru covered his face with his hand. Flesh weaved and threaded at the force of his concentration, layer upon layer of skin overlapping to form fine, textured detail. The skin was much paler than the creamy complexion underneath, stretching to the rest of his body beneath his clothes. It stretched until there was nothing of Kabuto left – all traces of his host body gone, covered with the intricate layers of his own.

Oh, how delightful it was to wear his own skin again. Orochimaru lowered his hand with a smile, musing over the morbid irony that he continued to live on just as Kabuto ceased to exist. Removing the clothes Kabuto always wore was akin to shedding skin; each imperfection – every remnant of the past – was left behind as yet another stepping stone, moving towards a greater path to the eventual truth of all things.

The smile began to fade upon glimpsing the brand at his shoulder. Now, if only _that_ could be shed to leave behind.

All throughout putting on a fresh set of clothing, Orochimaru was intensely aware of the brand. He looked at it with distaste, brows lowering until his eyes resembled mere slits. In his fixation, he negligently knocked an article of clothing over from the counter. Turning to retrieve it did not help in the slightest; bending over only served to expose his bare back to the mirror, shedding damning light on the brand.

The longer he stared at it, the more he took notice of how it looked, committing it to memory in the same way it had singed his flesh.

There, at the base of his left shoulder, in all of its beauty, was the Uchiha Clan fan. It was an exact replica with two halves of a fan comprising the symbol – one half painted in red while the other was white. Inky lines surrounded it, twisting around like barbed wire – so dark it was in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. The design was intricate down to every inked line, and that in itself only made Orochimaru seethe more.

Such fine, precise detail could only mean one thing – that Sasuke had planned this. He had been such a fool to be outplayed like this.

Orochimaru was driven to touch it; part of him was compelled by insatiable curiosity, a hunger to discover new things ingrained in nature while the other half, seething with fury, wanted nothing more than to rip the accursed thing from his skin. It was indeed a curse – the type of technique used to bend the will of others to the user. Seeing as he had developed his own Cursed Seal, he would surely know – something of an expert on the matter.

Perhaps this sort of brand differed from his rendition. Well, there was only one way to find out.

The second Orochimaru skimmed his finger over the brand, something happened. Sounds reached his ears – a hurried tread of footsteps, followed by the screech of steel. Without so much as knocking, the door to the bathroom banged open. So great was the force behind it that the door did not simply open – it flew off its hinges, splintering to pieces when it collided against the wall.

Sasuke disregarded the wreckage as he barged into the bathroom. He cut a figure of authority, power and steel as he brandished his sword in warning, eyes already ablaze with the Sharingan. "What were you doing?" was the first thing that came from his mouth.

Orochimaru did not answer immediately, taking his dear, sweet time to respond. When he finally deigned to speak, it was with heavy sarcasm and completely beside the point – he might as well have not even answered at all. "Do you make it a habit to destroy everything I own?"

"Like it matters," Sasuke dismissed with a scoff, cutting through the pointless chatter. It was something he had done in the last three years, blunt and straight to the point even with the likes of Orochimaru, and nothing had changed. "Come on – we're leaving."

Instead of moving, Orochimaru remained exactly where he was. "Care to elaborate on that?" he said in a condescending drawl. "Or is such a courtesy beyond you, Sasuke-kun," the name was uttered venomously, rolling off his tongue in a low hiss, "given that you barged into my room without an invitation." He stared Sasuke down, using his taller height to menacing advantage. "There is no 'we' here."

There was no change in Sasuke's expression, not even the slightest flicker indicating that he heard the words, much less even cared.

"Let me explain it for you since you so obviously have trouble understanding," Orochimaru said, talking down to Sasuke as if he was a nasty thing he had stepped on. He broke away from the bathroom counter, sauntering up to Sasuke, each calculated slither of his body matching the drawl of his words. "You seem to be labouring under the delusion that I will follow the snap of your fingers."

Sasuke did not say anything. A person of few words, he allowed his fingers – the abhorred thing Orochimaru referenced – to speak eloquently on his behalf. There was little point in entertaining the conversation at his expense; what he was about to do was necessary, if a bit distasteful in wreaking pain. Still keeping a firm grip on his sword, he used his free hand to make a seal.

For such a simple notion, the reaction was devastating.

It started off as prickles at first, causing Orochimaru to involuntarily twitch against his prideful efforts to remain still. He tried to brush the sensation off, twisting his neck slightly, trying to ease the muscles there but to no avail. The prickles soon gave way to scratching – an unseen force toying with his neck, scraping. No amount of twitching nor twisting could ever alleviate the agitation wrought by the brand.

Try as he may, it was a struggle for Orochimaru to remain still and unaffected. The pain was like no other – insidious, maddening in its prodding and stimulation of nerves. Instincts drove him to make a sudden, desperate movement to clutch his neck, barely managing to restrain himself. But he needed something, _anything_. He settled for curling his fingers inwards, digging his nails into his palms in a semblance of reprieve.

The activation of the brand was weaker this time around, though by no means ineffective. It had been a taste – a warning of sorts in a display of power that now dangled over Orochimaru.

By the time Sasuke was finished, his point had been made. The patter of footsteps trailing behind him spoke volumes of words left unsaid. If there were any doubts, all he had to do was look at Orochimaru. Veins and arteries at his neck were vascular, straining against white, tautly drawn skin. The tension was noticeable even through the obscuring collar of his shirt, evident from thinned lips and heavily lidded eyes.

Eyes that would have attempted murder, Sasuke noted as he glanced sideways, were such a thing possible. If looks could kill, Orochimaru would have killed him then and there, leaving him to rot in the underground hallways of Sound.

"I have to hand it to you, Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru said out of the blue, cutting through the stony silence following the incident in the bathroom. He was still sneering, the look making his next words sound hostile – a backhanded compliment, if anything. "You were quite resourceful in creating your own Cursed Seal."

"I had a lot of resources at my disposal," Sasuke explained, remembering the days spent in the dark, secretly gathering information Orochimaru had accumulated to his own detriment. As it so happened, they were passing by one of the storage rooms on their way out of the hideout, the sight making him smirk.

Sasuke directed the smirk at Orochimaru, remarking, "Maybe you should have kept a closer eye on the things you leave lying around."

Orochimaru deflected the insult by tossing his head in dismissal. "Oh, please. There is no need to keep my wealth of information locked down – not when everybody around is locked up." Flipping his hair drew a black gaze, and he took the opportunity to return the insult, narrowing his eyes. "Perhaps I should have caged you in like the others instead – locked you up and thrown the key away for three years."

"But you didn't," Sasuke pointed out bluntly, rather rudely if Orochimaru was so inclined to take offence. "And now here we are."

"Indeed." Orochimaru looked like he had sampled something particularly sour. "Your body was supposed to be mine," he whispered, more to himself than Sasuke. "Now, I find myself saddled with the likes of you, setting out on a silly journey to kill brother dearest."

Sasuke felt a muscle in his jaw tick, annoyed at the imperious gesture made in his general direction, blithe in its mockery of Itachi and, by extension, his mission to avenge his Clan. "You would never understand," he said, activating his Sharingan for good measure. The tomoes in his eyes began to spin just as the matter-of-fact words flowed from his lips. "Itachi will die by my hand. That's all there is to it."

But Sasuke was wrong – there was much more to the mission than that. One did not simply waltz around and kill a member of Akatsuki. Orochimaru was living proof of that, attesting to the fact that its members – including that of defectors and traitors – were difficult to eliminate. Such a thing had never been more relevant now, especially since he had evaded Akatsuki for years and escaped Itachi with nothing but a flesh wound.

"And how exactly will you accomplish that?" Orochimaru asked flatly, unimpressed by the Sharingan – the very thing he coveted – flaunted so tactlessly in his face. "Are we expected to just meander the world perchance to stumble upon Itachi?"

Though Sasuke did not admit it, Orochimaru had a fair point. Either way, he shrugged the matter off since he had an array of contingencies in place. "There are ways. Having you in the equation works just as well."

From the way he spoke with finality, deliberately being vague, it was clear that Sasuke intended to drop the discussion. A stalling hand at his forearm, however, said otherwise.

"Back off," Sasuke ordered, his voice cutting like the steel at his side, resting one hand threateningly on its hilt. Between them, he was the one calling the shots, and he did not appreciate being ordered around nor touched.

Orochimaru paid no heed; he rounded on Sasuke in all seriousness. "If you're planning on using me as bait to draw Akatsuki out," he intoned lowly, tightening his hold in emphasis, "then this will end badly for everyone involved – including you." The Sharingan swirled in warning, burning in its fiery intensity, but he stood his ground to make sure Sasuke understood the high stakes. "Do you understand?"

Sasuke remained cool as ever, unperturbed at the unsubtle threat. His gloved hand enclosed around a white wrist, applying numbing pressure such that the fingers slackened around his forearm, doing exactly what he ordered – backing the hell off.

Orochimaru looked livid, on the verge of snapping, grinding his teeth together as his eyes flashed with murderous intent. He would have given Sasuke a piece of his mind if not for something catching his eye. It was a flash of silver, the speed at which Sasuke pulled it from his pocket making it streak like a shooting star, flashing in the dimly lit corridor of Sound.

"Anyway, I was planning on using this." Sasuke was casual as can be, fingering the object in his palm.

"My Akatsuki ring," Orochimaru breathed in recognition, crushing the sudden, irrational impulse to reach out and make off with it. He stared at it before slowly shifting his gaze to the man holding it, already assuming the worst. "What did you do with the hand it was attached to?"

Under the guise of inspecting the ring, Sasuke noted Orochimaru's reaction from the corner of his eye, finding it rather strange. Even stranger was the realisation that the object was cold in his hands after handling it, almost like his touch was unwelcome – that the ring was somehow dead. Perhaps there was much more to the ring than he had initially thought, judging by the strongly elicited reaction to it.

Sasuke kept that in mind when speaking, deliberately keeping his tone mild. "That rotting, severed old thing?" His words were not minced – the hand had been encased in a container, preserved in an advanced stage of bodily decay. Skin had been peeling away, the flesh sunken as if all of the life had ebbed away over the years, leaving nothing but a shell behind – a reminder of what used to be human.

"It reeked of death so I left it behind," Sasuke answered in all honesty, for there was no way he would have been able to carry the container with him, had he somehow wanted to. He looked squarely at Orochimaru then, black eyes – no longer blazing with the Sharingan – boring into ones that better resembled a snake more than human. "Don't tell me you're sentimental about it."

Orochimaru plastered a smile, one that was thin and hollow, lacking any sort of warmth one would usually associate with such a thing. "I could say the same thing to you, Sasuke-kun. You would never understand," he quoted in a murmur, relaying the words Sasuke had iterated earlier. "And to think that you would steal that of all things."

"Like I said," Sasuke began coolly as he continued to finger the ring, "it was all your own doing, enabled through your arrogance to be careless." The ring remained unaffected in his hands – cold even after he had touched it for some time now. Strange as it were, he did not dwell on it any longer, pocketing it. "You should have kept a closer eye on the things you leave lying around."

As he lead the way out of the hideout, Sasuke could feel the weight of a gaze, in turn, keeping a close eye on his every move.


End file.
